


Secrets to Keep

by mikeymagee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, bartending, blackinfanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeymagee/pseuds/mikeymagee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On her own now, away from HYDRA, Raina comes to Hell's Kitchen...and she comes across the strangest bar with an even stranger bartender. Secrets are meant to be kept hidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets to Keep

It was never supposed to be so…complicated. At least, not in the beginning. Raina had worked with HYDRA, ensuring the production of The Deathlok program, providing soldiers for an army that skulked in darkness. Shit, her life was turning into a goddamn comic book. Something right out of those Captain America trades she and her friends used to make fun of back in Thailand.

But she wasn’t in Thailand any longer, and she wasn’t with HYDRA any more, if that fucker, Ward, wanted control of the Deathlok project, he was more than welcomed. Raina was smarter than that, she knew that it was only a matter of time before the monster turned on its creator. Frankenstein is more of an allegory than a sci-fi tale. A lesson to be learned, move away from what you create before it swallows you whole.

Raina always prided herself in knowing when it was time to leave. It had kept her alive, hadn’t it? And now, she found herself on the cornerstones of an old alleyway in Hell’s Kitchen. A run down neighborhood in New York. No one, not even SHIELD or HYDRA, would consider searching for her here. Not with its beaten trash cans, and layers of filth that floated through the air and clung to your clothes. This place was ground zero for all manner of shit. And who would notice another vagabond running through its streets?

Tonight was for her. She had come to Hell’s Kitchen, found a run down apartment to act as a base, and had already planned her next move. Once she had gathered enough funds, she could disappear into the Midwest, perhaps continue her research…or just start a new life? Who knew?

Raina stopped, her eyes slipping from the crusty streets, and up to the neon sign in the window. LUKE’s…it read. In her wander, she had come across a shadowed bar. Inching away from the streetlamps…it did not want to be known. She smiled. A new secret to uncover, to hold away inside of her. Secrets were like medals, semblances of what was once precious; now hers to marvel and display. And Raina loved medals. She folded a strand of hair behind her ear, and clicked her heels against the cement, and marched in.

The bar was…strange. What she had expected to be a seedy, undercurrent of shadowy figures, and hurried whispers, looked more like a museum. Rain gawked at the saxophones hung up behind the counter like mounted animals. She peered at the old timey jukebox that looked like it hadn’t been used since the days of Elvis. She walked up to the bar, and ran her finger across its counter top. Not a single scratch. No memory of past customers to boast of, no evidence that something (or someone) was ever here to begin with. Either this place was brand new…or the owner kept it in great shape.

She pulled out a bar stool, and sat down.

“Just give me a sec,” came a voice, low and broad.

Wasn’t this how porn movies stared? A beautiful, attractive woman comes into a shady looking place, and is promised to be “serviced” later on? Rain grinned, and then, out comes this muscle headed, steroid ridden freak whose biggest asset is his dick. Ravishing cinema…but that never stopped her from watching it. And even worse, in all of those films…the man was never attractive. Ever.

Raina slid her fingertip over the countertop, smooth as fresh marble. She heard the stomping of boots, and the clatter of glasses. It’s lucky this guy wasn’t in the assassination business, anyone would be able to hear him a mile away.

“So,” he asked, “What can I get you?”

Raina just shrugged, not really looking up, “Uh…Long Island Iced Tea.”

And the man leaned in close, close enough for Rain to smell his cologne (scented of cinnamon and raisins) and said, “I normally like my customers to look at me when they place their orders.” There was a chuckle in his voice, a joke that almost made Raina forget herself…almost.

She looked up. And there he stood. A tall man whose skin was a dark as toffee. Warm and inviting. His eyes glimmered. Brown and smooth like the bar she now sat at. He was nothing less than beautiful.

“Well,” she said, “Hello there.” Despite her enchantment, she wasn’t one to allow her laurels to wander. She stood straight, placed her hands in her lap, and smiled. She had outdone HYDRA, SHIELD agents, thugs on the streets, and there was no way she was going to lose herself over a random barkeeper. No matter how attractive his smile was.

It wasn’t like she herself wasn’t attractive either. She had a look that was all her own. Her hair that could defy gravity, bounce as she walked, and sway when her mood shifted. When she joined HYDRA, so many of her superiors were enchanted. Intrigued. Even Ward himself could not help but stare when she walked through the halls. He made the mistake of believing he could touch her, weave his fingers through her, play with her strands…of course, one quick punch to his nose remedied that situation. Yes, she was enchanting…how could she not be?

“And hello to you too.” He pulled out a rag from his apron, and smiled. “One Iced Tea coming, up.” He bent over and pulled out bottle after bottle from behind the counter. There was rum, liquor, and whatever the hell else went into that drink. Raina didn’t really much care for Long Island Iced Tea, but she had seen others drink it on those shitty B-films, so what the hell, right?

The bartender, whom Raina assumed owned the place, seeing as there was no one else on staff (or even in the bar for the matter) moved with a murky grace. He poured, being extra careful not to spill a drop, he stomped from one part of the bar (to fetch his shaker) and then back to the other. But his movements were so fluid that his loud stomping was almost forgotten. There was a sadness to his work. He shook the drink too vigorously; too much aggression, too much anger. But when he poured, he did it slowly, there was too much caution.

You didn’t have to be Natasha Romanova to know that this man had no balance in his life. Perhaps he worked—or rather, over worked—to get away from some kind of tragedy? When Loki attacked New York, small places like Hell’s Kitchen got hit the hardest. Perhaps someone he cared about was lost in the struggle.

He slide the freshly made Ice Tea towards her.

 _Oh well_ , Raina thought, _such is life_. It’s not that she didn’t care…it’s just, that if she spent her entire time trying to reconcile all of the lives lost (and all of the lives she had taken with her actions) she wouldn’t be able to get anything done. So she learned to make allowances for the blood and the sacrifice. That’s what life was.

“One Long Island Iced Tea for milady,” he said, “Courtesy of Luke Cage.” He took a curt bow.

Raina batted her eyes, “My, what a gentleman.” This was just a game to her…and possibly to him as well. She knew people like Luke Cage…hell, she _was_ Luke Cage. Using charm and looks to sway others, hide your secrets, and discover others’. But the different was, Raina was at this far longer than he had. She had survived on the streets of Thailand. Survived HYDRA. Made monsters. Destroyed lives…and she had run, only to find another way to start again. Just business as usual.

“So,” Luke Cage said, “What brings you to my little hole in the wall?”

Raina grasped the straw of her tea between her thumb and index fingers, and stirred. “Just visiting.”

Luke nodded, “Yeah…I kind a’ figured. Never really seen you around before.”

Raina shrugged, “Got something against new customers?”

“Not at all,” Luke said, “But come on, I only really get a certain kind of clientele here…and no offense, but you don’t exactly blend in.”

Perhaps she was losing her touch?

“Like I said,” Raina took a sip, “Just visiting.”

Luke folded his arms, and tilted his head, a small understanding sprouting between them. _I won’t pry if you won’t._

And Raina understood. She could very well ask, persuade him of his secret, and simply move on, file the new info away for further use…but what would be the point? She had already gotten as much info as she had desired. Handsome bartender overworks himself to forget tragedy of lost love…or something similar. Very cliché, very predictable. No sense in pushing onward.

“This drink is pretty good,” she said.

“Well, coming from someone as classy as you, that’s high praise.” Luke smiled and took out his rag to clean the table top…even though it was already clean to begin with.

“I may have to give this place 5 stars on Yelp.” She stirred her drink and listened to the ice clink against the glass. Later that night, she would have to return to her apartment, find a way to gather funds, and get the hell out of Hell’s Kitchen before someone caught up with her…but for this one short time, she felt herself melting away. Her secrets never felt more secure than they did here, in this bar, where the door skulks away from the light, and the bartenders know what the meaning of shadows.

Perhaps…she would return again.

 


End file.
